It broke.
The very essence of Abel
his future, his life, the foundation of his dreams to become a cultivator
shattered like a fragile glass figurine
A future that held the promise of soaring above the heavens, a life etched with potential, was gone. It vanished with a sickening crack, as simple a sound as a shattering glass, yet carrying the weight of a universe.
Mathias's face remained devoid of emotion, a mask of cruelty. The weight of Abel's shattered potential seemed to hang heavy in the air, an unspoken accusation against the villain's ruthless act.
This wasn't just a severed tendon or a broken bone. This was the brutal severing of a destiny, the theft of a future painstakingly built over years of training and sacrifice.
The simplicity of the act – a single swing of a blade – only amplified the horror.
This potential, so precious, so full of promise, could be snuffed out as easily as shattering a cheap wine glass.
Tears welled up in Abel's eyes, not of pain, but of a profound, soul-crushing despair. He was a bird with clipped wings, a melody silenced before it could even begin.
The man who had shattered Abel's future – Mathias – stared down at him with chilling indifference.
The battlefield held its breath, a desolate tableau of fallen warriors and shattered dreams.
Only four figures remained. Brimeborg, a 'now' one-armed giant, stood scarred and lifeless.
Sebastian, the once-celestial warrior, lay pressed into the earth by an unseen force.
And in the center of it all, Mathias, a monstrous silhouette against the dying sun, held Abel aloft
High above them, bathed in the harsh sunlight, stood Mathias. His crimson blade, still dripping with Abel's essence, pierced through the boy's lifeless form. Abel, his once-fiery eyes now vacant, resembled nothing more than a broken doll, his body limp and lifeless in Mathias's cruel grip.
He stood tall, his crimson blade dripping with a stolen future. Impaled upon its cruel edge, limp and lifeless, was Abel.
"f...fu.."
A strangled curse escaped Abel's lips, a final flicker of defiance before the light dimmed in his eyes. His body, a puppet with its strings cut, hung limply, tossed by the wind like a broken bird.
Mathias regarded the boy with chilling indifference. The weight of his actions seemed to hold no sway over him. In his eyes, Abel was nothing more than a fly swatted away, a minor obstacle removed from his path.
Despite the lifelessness that draped Abel's body, his eyes remained fixed on Mathias.
They burned with an unsettling intensity, devoid of emotion yet filled with a silent accusation.
His once-pristine attire, now a crimson tapestry, clung to his broken form.
But it was the utter absence of fear, the silent rage simmering within Abel's empty gaze, that truly unsettled Mathias. His maniacal laughter faltered, replaced by a chilling coldness.
Mathias, his cruel smirk replaced by a scoff, reveled in his victory. "Your glorious future," he spat, his voice dripping with sadistic glee, "now lies in shattered fragments at your feet, young prince. No phoenix-like rise from the ashes for you. You, who once lorded over mortals, are destined to become one yourself – a powerless pawn in the game you so enjoyed manipulating!, HAHAHAHA!" A peal of maniacal laughter echoed across the bloodstained ground.
But Abel's gaze remained fixed on him, an emotionless void reflecting nothing back. The manic laughter died in Mathias's throat, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. His grip tightened on Abel's limp form, and he began to walk towards the edge of the precipice.
The ground gave way to a seemingly endless expanse of sky. Clouds, obscuring the depths below, swirled ominously. An abyss of swirling air gaped before them, whispering of terror and the unknown. Mathias, a silhouette against the endless sky, held Abel aloft, a puppet poised for a final, horrifying performance.
Mathias, his voice dripping with a sickening sincerity, spoke. "Young prince, despite all that has transpired... you remain a Reysmith. The heir, no less. And a servant like myself..." He paused, letting the weight of his next words hang heavy in the air.
"A servant," he continued, a hint of a cruel smile playing on his lips, "is bound to offer his liege one last chance! A chance to rise from the ashes, like the fabled phoenix!, HAHAHAHA!" A harsh, mocking laugh erupted from him. "Let us see if fate smiles upon you this time, young prince!"
With a flick of his wrist, Mathias cast Abel off the precipice.
The young prince plummeted towards the churning abyss below, his figure shrinking into a crimson speck against the endless expanse of sky. As the last vestige of Abel disappeared into the swirling clouds, Mathias spoke a single, chilling sentence:
"Goodbye, demon."